


The Small Animal of Your Body

by Qais



Series: Where Human Beings Grow Human Souls [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Jason + Alfred + Clark are just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:19:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qais/pseuds/Qais
Summary: There's blood spilling between his fingers and Dick needs to know his Dad will be okay.





	The Small Animal of Your Body

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Mary Oliver's poem "Wild Geese." The whole line is as follows: "You only have to let the small animal of your body love what it loves."

Dick is crying, full sobs and gasping breaths rattling around in his chest. His hand is pressed into his side but he can feel the pressure growing weaker, and the flow of blood just increasing. And Dick knows that crying isn’t going to make it better, is making it much worse actually, but he can’t seem to stop. His other hand is trembling as Dick pulls his phone out, and he’s slumped against his BPD car, alone along a an empty stretch of highway, left for dead, and more alone than he’s been for a long time. He thinks he might die.

His trembling fingers pull out his phone and he dials without properly thinking about it, without hesitating. He can’t afford the chance that he might not have the opportunity to say goodbye later. 

The phone rings once, twice, and halfway through the third ring, the phone is picked up. “...Hello?” Bruce’s voice is both gruff and confused and Dick almost laughs.  
“Bruce,” he whispers, tears streaming down his face. 

“Dick,” there’s a faint thread of concern warring with annoyance in Bruce’s voice and god, god, Dick will miss him, Dick misses him. “What’s wrong?”

“Bruce, I-” and he chokes on his own blood, and keens at the pain in his abdomen at every horrid cough. 

“Dick, where are you?” Dick can hear rustling in the background, knows that Bruce is preparing to storm in and figure out what’s wrong. But Dick doesn’t know if Bruce could make it in time, knows that Bruce is over in Europe for WE business. He might not get a chance to hear his voice again.

“Dad,” and Dick’s breath hitches and he sobs. “Dad, I love you,” he hears Bruce’s breath hitch and the rustling cuts off. “I love you, please, please don’t-” he gasps, a flaring white-hot pain shooting up his stomach. “Please be okay, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Dick is barely making sense anymore, he’s crying so hard, but he can’t die without saying this, can’t leave Bruce without saying this. 

“Dick,” Bruce’s voice is so rough, like gravel being dragged over shattered glass, and Dick cries even harder. He never meant for it to be like this, he didn’t want to hurt his dad. “Dick, chum, you’re-” Dick can hear Bruce’s heaving breaths, knows that he’s crying. “You’re my whole heart, my boy, I love you so much.”

Dick is crying hard, and his abdomen has gone numb. He knows that it’s not a good sign but he can’t help but be relieved at the fading of pain. “Dad, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Dick, you don’t-” as Bruce speaks Dick hears the faint quiet whir of the Batplane in the background.

“I don’t want to be something else you grieve over,” Dick rushes out, knows he has to explain. He can feel how startled Bruce is. “I- please, please be okay, dad,” his tears have slowed down but now he can hear Bruce holding his breath, trying to not dissolve. “Let Jason help,” and _shit, Jason_. Dick hoped the younger boy would be alright, wouldn’t be bothered by this happening. They didn’t know each other well but Dick can’t help but think of Jason as his brother, his to take care of, and he knows that Jason looks up to him, as angry and sour as he can be. “Dad,” Dick groans helplessly. He doesn’t know how to fix this.

“Dick, honey, I’m almost there okay, just keep talking to me, chum, okay?” Bruce’s voice is even and paced but Dick can hear the climbing frantic energy in the controlled calm. 

“Dad, I’m so tired, please tell-” he breaks off to cough up more blood. “Please tell Alfred and Jason that I love them, tell them sorry okay?”

Bruce is silent.

“Dad,” and now Dick grows frantic, desperate to wring a promise out of Bruce. “Dad, promise you’ll be okay, please, please talk to Uncle Clark,” _shit. Clark._ “Please dad. Please, promise.”

“I promise,” it’s a quiet whisper, nearly nothingness, but it’s enough. “I love you son. Hold on okay? Can you do that for me Dickie, please?” It’s a softer whisper than Dick has ever heard from his dad and his chest nearly cracks open at the tense pleading. 

“I’ll try,” Dick says, and a tear slips out as he feels himself tipping over as black encroaches his vision. “Dad-” and that’s all he gets out before he falls.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I love to pretend I'm writing angst by writing fluff and putting a thin veneer of blood over it.


End file.
